


Cherry Wine

by suicider00m



Category: Bandom, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Angst, Dark, Domestic Violence, Fucked Up, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-17 09:35:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8139209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suicider00m/pseuds/suicider00m
Summary: Sometimes they can be your medicine but still come with their own condition.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is super fucked up and I'm sorry
> 
> this is all based on personal experience and josh is honestly the least likely person in the world to ever be like this so I'm so sorry for making him that way but I'm dating this new guy and I'm terrified because I don't want to be to him who my ex was to me so I just need a way to get feelings out and AAAAHHHH
> 
> i'm sorry
> 
>  
> 
> title from Cherry Wine by Hozier
> 
>  
> 
> steph i love you and if you read this please don't hate me
> 
> im a mess im sor ry

Josh never meant to get so angry.

He couldn’t help himself, couldn’t stop the rage as it built in his neck and suffocated him with pure fury. He became agitated, restless, pacing with shaking hands as he tried to resist grabbing the nearest object and hurling it across the room. He never thought he would end up like this, turning into the father he loathed, but there he was, palm stinging as he stood over a collapsed, crying Tyler. 

“Tyler, oh my god, I’m so sorry, baby, I’m so sorry.” 

And then Josh was on the floor, holding his boyfriend as they both cried for very different reasons. He kept pressing soft kisses to the boy’s cheek, as though that would ease the pain (whether he was aiming for the physical or emotional hurt, he wasn’t entirely sure).

It wasn’t as though Tyler hadn’t been hurt before. His mother had taken her hand to him more than a few times and growing up with brothers was bound to leave him with some scars, but with Josh it was different. Tyler couldn’t choose his family, nor could they choose him; Josh was a choice, one that he would always make.

So he did what he knew how to do— survive.

“It’s okay, you can use me.”

⌀ ⌀ ⌀

The third time Tyler showed up to work with a bruised jaw, Jenna spoke up.

“You can’t just sit there and pretend everything’s okay.” 

Tyler shrugged. “I’ve spent most of my life in a perpetual state of denial and disassociation. This is practically normal.”

⌀ ⌀ ⌀

The cycle burned through them like roses, smoldering away at the edges but the flame never catching: Josh got angry, Josh hit Tyler, Tyler let him, Josh apologized, and they were okay. It never got better but it never got worse, and if Josh could live with the guilt then Tyler could live with the pain.

They got better at it; Josh learned to leave bruises where they wouldn’t be seen, Tyler’s makeup and first aid skills improved. He began to sense when it was coming, could get enough of a warning from Josh’s attitude to pop a couple of over-the-counter pain pills before hits started to come. 

(Each time the effect would lessen and he’d have to take more, until he was making weekly trips to the drugstore, a different one each time so the cashiers wouldn’t get suspicious. He’d drawn up a map and written out a schedule, making sure to spread out the visits as much as he possibly could.)

Afterwards, alcohol and ice would numb the pain as Josh held him close, whispering words they both knew he didn’t mean. 

“I’m sorry.”

“It won’t happen again.”

“I love you.”

Everyone loves a good lie; can you blame them?

⌀ ⌀ ⌀

They were drunk. Surprisingly enough, Josh didn’t hit as hard when he was drunk. Tyler liked it when Josh was drunk.

“Tyler, are we okay?” he sounded confused. Tyler didn’t realize why until he felt fingers brush over the bruise on his shoulder.

“We’re fine.”

Josh was quiet for a moment. When he next spoke, his voice was a hushed whisper. “We’re not fine.”

“No,” Tyler admitted, sighing. “But if anyone asks, lie and tell them we are.”

⌀ ⌀ ⌀

Josh cried the first time Tyler flinched.

He hadn’t even been going to hit him, just held his hand up for a high five after a sweet sniper shot in GTA. Tyler had flinched away automatically, hands raising almost to his face before dropping into his lap (Josh didn’t like it when he tried to defend himself). He hadn’t seen the look of abject horror on the other man’s face, eyes shut tight so he wouldn't have to see the hits coming. 

Instead he got sobs and apologies, pleas to leave and stay gasped in the same breath. “I never knew,” Josh choked out. “I thought you were okay with it, you _told_ me you were okay with it.”

Tyler closed his eyes, ran his hands through faded blue hair, relishing in the soft, gentle touches from a time almost forgotten. “I am okay with it, but just because I forgive doesn’t mean I forget.”

Josh took him apart piece by piece that night, kissing every spot where he’d ever left a bruise until Tyler was shaking and begging for him. He fucked him soft, slow, _lovingly_ , and Tyler couldn’t help the sobs that poured forth. 

Tyler cried, Josh cried, and Tyler wasn’t hard once.

⌀ ⌀ ⌀

Josh had a look of passion in his eyes. Sometimes, Tyler fears it’s not passion. Sometimes he fears it’s more like consumption. Josh devours and destroys him. He takes everything Tyler has to offer and gives nothing in return. And when he is done, Tyler is empty, a shell, a void.

The nagging thought at the back of his brain, the one that knows he should run far away from Josh, was quieted as the man’s lips made their way down his neck.

“What’s wrong?” Josh mumbled into his neck where bruises, the kind he was unused to, were starting to form.

“Nothing,” he said, trying to push Josh back to mouthing at his skin, but it was no use. The other man knew him too well, pulled back to look at him expectantly. Tyler knew he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“It just seems like every time we fix things, something else ends up breaking.”

Josh’s frown tightened, his eyes narrowed and jaw set. Tyler wished he had taken pain pills. 

“So what, you’re waiting for me to fuck up again?”

Tyler shook his head, doing his best to look earnest and apologetic at the same time. “No, baby, that’s not what I—”

_Thwack_

Josh was sneering now, looking disgusted at the sight of his pathetic excuse for a boyfriend cowering on the floor, one cheek redder than the other. 

“I love you but I just can’t stand to be around you right now,” he spat, turning away and walking out. 

Tyler didn’t cry. He learned to hold back the tears a long time ago.

⌀ ⌀ ⌀

Josh was stitching up Tyler’s side, trying not to show how much he enjoyed the way Tyler winced each time the needle went in.

“This isn’t about you, you know,” he said suddenly, punctuating the statement with a particularly hard stab.

“Yeah,” Tyler said, voice strained. Half a bottle of painkillers did nothing nowadays. “I figured.”

⌀ ⌀ ⌀

Sometimes, Josh forgot to be angry.

Tyler would wake up to coffee brewing and bagels in the toaster, lazy make-outs on the kitchen counter as they waited for breakfast. They would feed each other in between giggles and innocent kisses, ankles crossed underneath the table.

They’d spend most of the day cuddling on the couch, the TV playing shitty re-runs of old sitcoms that they’d ignore in favor of each other. They talk about their plans for the future, about one day moving out of their shitty apartment into a real house, with a white picket fence and everything. They’d get married and have 2.5 children and a golden retriever before retiring at 50 and spending the rest of their lives in a nice house out in the country somewhere.

Then Josh would carry Tyler to the bedroom, bridal style, and they’d make love, smiling and laughing the entire time. They’d cuddle after and talk about pointless things until they fell asleep, and Tyler could almost pretend the past few months were just a nightmare which he had woken up from. Unfortunately, those days were more dream than reality.

He’d wake up the next morning, bed cold and body colder as he realized just what was in store. Those days always hurt the worst, but he couldn’t tell if Josh was hitting harder or if his disappointment just made the pain worse.

⌀ ⌀ ⌀

“It’s not okay,” Mark said the day Tyler showed up with a black eye and split lip. “What he does to you, Tyler, it’s _not okay_.”

“I know,” Tyler said, and he did. He wasn’t disillusioned as to what Josh was doing to him; he knew it was abuse, he just didn’t care.

“I know there’s a difference between this and love. I just wish I could remember what it is.”

**Author's Note:**

> Domestic Abuse Hotline: 1-800-799-7233
> 
>  
> 
> hmu @ twentyoneboyfriends on tumblr


End file.
